


Gonna Crawl Under Your Skin

by asimaiyat



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Barry and Iris friendship, Canonical Minor Character Death, Ficlet, First Meetings, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 19:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6342748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimaiyat/pseuds/asimaiyat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barry goes to a rock show with Iris to help her chase a lead for an article, and ends up falling in lust with the lead singer of Rogues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gonna Crawl Under Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> So @moonterlude on tumblr suggested that someone write an AU where Len is in a rock band and if there's one thing you should know about me it's that I can never resist a rock band AU. Even if I only have time for a tiny snippet of one.
> 
> Strongly suggest that you listen to ["Break Into Your Heart" by Iggy Pop](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XP0lIf4Jhvs&list=PLxBorAjZ9b9TDy1EEvSAGXW_roqzNgIkA) while reading this, and just let the rest of the album stream after that really.

_This is pointless_ , Barry thought, because the club was way too dark, loud and crowded to even see anything, let alone gather any valuable information about who was here last night and what they might have seen. He bent down and cupped a hand over his mouth, speaking into Iris’ ear: “I’m not sure how this is going to help you write your article!”

“It’s context!” Iris yelled back, standing on tiptoes to get into his hearing range. “You know, I want to set the scene. Besides, Rogues are headlining tonight. You’re going to be glad you came with me.” 

She gave him a knowing smile that made him very curious, because ever since alcohol stopped working on him, Barry hadn’t been much for going out to shows. He turned off social sharing on his Spotify account because Cisco kept teasing him about being several years behind on popular music. Hell, the only reason he was here, surrounded by loud drunks and flashing lights in the long period between the opening act and the headliner, was because Iris is writing an article about an alleged homicide that took place downtown last night, and the victim was last seen alive here, at this honestly sketchy-as-hell rock club with half-peeled-off stickers and flyers covering the walls and a whole wall of amps surrounding the stage. The opening act had been an all-female screamo group called Birds of Prey. They were impressive, he had to admit, but his ears were still ringing. Maybe he should have worn earplugs.

“Barry! Bear! It’s them!” Iris was stage-whispering at him, tugging his shoulder to get him closer to her voice. At least she was having fun – seriously, it was awesome to see Iris having such a good time, and he knew she was going to kick ass when she got a chance to actually interview witnesses.

And then he saw what she was excited about. Damn… everyone on stage was really attractive, in different ways, The tall, elegant brunette in the leather bustier playing rhythm guitar… the huge muscular drummer who’d already lost his shirt… the petite girl with the huge dark eyes and awesome hair on bass. Even the guy behind the keyboard, who was mostly hidden in a black hoodie with the hood up, had a cute smile.

But the lead singer, wow, damn. He prowled to the center of the stage and took hold of the microphone like it was a deadly weapon he was trained to wield, looking out at the audience with the most sinful smirk Barry had ever seen. Iris squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, hoping that the gesture conveyed the basic meaning of _you were right, you were so right, I will never question you again._ And he wouldn’t. Because if looks weren’t enough, then the guy started singing.

They didn’t sound anything like Birds of Prey. The music still had the raw edge of punk rock, but it was smoother, more melodic. _Darker_. Everyone in the band knew what they were doing. Especially the lead singer, whose voice was like nothing Barry had ever heard before, deep and velvety and full of barely-concealed emotion. The lyrics were dark, almost scary, but that voice was full of heartbreak, full of soul. The song was clearly about a bad man, but in that voice Barry heard a good man who’d been hurt.

The more he watched and listened, the more hypnotized Barry was. He couldn’t stop staring at the way the man’s long, graceful fingers moved on his guitar or on the neck of the microphone, the occasional flash of bright blue eyes when he looked out over the crowd, the flex of muscle visible under a tight long-sleeved black shirt. To his own surprise, he felt his body moving to the music, little bounces and shimmies that only occasionally exceeded normal human speeds. Iris elbowed him when she caught him actually vibrating, shooting him a brilliant grin.

When the show ended, after a much-demanded encore, Barry felt like he’d just run to Star City and back. He was exhilarated and exhausted. Iris tugged at his wrist. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go backstage.”

“Backstage?” he repeated, his voice higher than he really wanted it to be.

“Yeah! The bartender told me the band had worked with the victim before. We’re going to talk to them.” She smiled that blinding smile again as she led him toward the stage and around, shit, they were actually doing this. He was not ready. His _body_ was not ready. Iris flashed her press pass and there they were, in the dressing room with the Rogues. Or was it just Rogues, no _the_?

There was no way he had enough space in his head right now to remember, because holy shit, there was the singer – _“I’m Leo,” he’d drawled between songs, before casually introducing the rest of the band_ – tilting back his head to drink an entire bottle of water in a couple of long gulps. Barry was staring, _shit_ , but when he turned away he saw the rhythm guitarist unfastening her bustier, so really there was nowhere safe to look. His eyes found their way back to Leo, who chose that moment to look back at him, and wow, those eyes were even bluer up close.

“Hi, I’m Iris West, with Star City Picture News. And this is my, uh, assistant, Barry. I’m talking to people who knew Farooq Gibran, I’m sure you heard –”

“We don’t know anything ‘bout that,” the beefy drummer announced bluntly, still shirtless and now also extremely sweaty. Leo, the singer, raised a hand in his general direction, not turning his head to look at him.

“Mick’s right,” he said, tilting his head almost apologetically. “But you know what they say, any publicity is good publicity. Iris and Barry, you said?” It could have been wishful thinking or sheer delirium, but Barry was pretty sure those piercing eyes met his for longer than strictly necessary before the man nodded toward the beat-up couches furnishing the dressing room. “Make yourselves at home. We’ll be happy to put any questions you have to rest.”


End file.
